Fight My Insanity
by zlydjia
Summary: It's a battle for wills, a battle for love, and a battle that could ruin everything or save it forever. Blaine's losing himself, and only one person can rescue him from the demon inside.
1. Prologue

**A/N: So a little demon!Blaine prompt has been floating around. This is my shot at it. I'm not sure how long it'll go or anything, but I plan on making this the first fic I actually finish.**

**This is my interpretation of a demon. It's not a take on Supernatural's or anyone else's, except for the black eyes. Don't worry; you'll get to know all the intricacies of demonhood.**

**This bit is short, but it should pick up soon.**

It threw him into the brick; it was cold and he could feel the rough stone through his thin jacket. It grabbed him, pinning him against the wall with two hands. Another came beside it. Blaine could hear them tinkering with something metal, something that sounded ominously sharp. They hissed at each other, speaking some sort of language that sounded a mix between snake's noises and Latin. He thought he could pick out a few words over the beating of his heart, though they were mangled, from his classes at Dalton. "Death," they hissed. "Death, life,"

_Kurt was right. I never should have came._

It had seemed like a good idea; they always did. Right before something came and hit him in the face. Or punched him out, and held him pinned to a wall.

_No one's going to find me. I'll stay here forever_

He felt claws digging at his skin, ripping up his jacket sleeve. His arm shook from exposure to the temperature and drops of rain. His breath pounded in time with his heart, faster than he thought possible. _I'm going to die_, he thought. _I'm going to die. I won't…_ He couldn't finish the last thought. He couldn't think of not…

A stabbing pain shot through his forearm, and he felt a liquid gush inside. A liquid that felt dark, slimy. They dropped him in a heap on the dirty cement. He was of no use to them now. They hissed in their language again, conversing.

Blaine was left, curled onto himself clutching his arm, as the memories attacked him. Memories of yesterday, of ten years ago, of a hundred years ago. Memories he had. Memories he couldn't have had. Memories. Always memories. He shook, trying to fight them off. Trying to expel them from his mind.

He managed to grab his phone out of his pocket, before the memories turned to pain. He slid it open, pressing the first button he could and hoping, praying, to get someone on speed dial. It rang, then rang again.

"Blaine? Blaine?"

When the voice received no answer, it got worried.

"Blaine? BLAINE?" Kurt screamed into the receiver.

He couldn't answer. The liquid inside his veins had turned to ice, then to acid. It scorched through his muscles, burning them, tearing them apart. He could only scream. Scream in agony, in pain, in loss.

Somewhere, he heard the voice crackle out before it became too much, and he blacked out.


	2. Chapter 1

At this point, Kurt Hummel was rather glad he kept close tabs on his boyfriend. He knew exactly where Blaine would be, at least within a mile radius.

This helped if you get mysterious calls, consisting only of screaming, that gets cut off mysteriously.

Which Kurt had received. He was still shaking; he clenched his fingers together to prevent them from trembling. It took all his will to fill his lungs with deep breaths, and his heart pounded a rhythm onto the inside of his ribs Kurt was sure would bruise.

The only thought in his mind was, _I have to find him, _mixed intermittently with reverberations of Blaine's wrenching screams. They'd been made tinny, and all the more horrible for it, through his phone's speakers. And no matter what Kurt did, they would not leave his mind.

Kurt had wanted to go to the show, if only to share something with his boyfriend. But it was a shady part of town, and a school night. He'd have to sneak out and sneak in, it just wasn't worth it. Despites Kurt's warnings, Blaine had gone to the show anyway.

_You didn't listen to me, and look where that got you Blaine. Lying in an alley somewhere, screaming, injured.. or worse. _

He had to go. He had to find him. No one else knew; he wasn't sure if anyone else cared. Kurt snuck downstairs, in stocking feet, silently grabbing his coat and keys. He heard a buzz from the living room. His dad was up watching some late night sports program again. That could complicate the sneaking out bit. Kurt almost made it to the door before someone coughed.

"Kurt? Where're you going?"

_Shit._

"It's ten thirty. On a Tuesday. Tell me where you're going."

He mind whirred, trying to think of some lie to throw off his dad. He hated to lie, but he also needed to get downtown as soon as possible. No witty comment or snarky comeback came to mind. Where was his brain tonight? Echoes of the scream came back in answer. Kurt blinked twice, trying to suppress tears.

"Blaine," he whispered. The tears came and pricked at the corner of his eyes.

"What did he do to you?" Burt Hummel was suddenly furious. "If he hurt you…"

The threat hung in the air between them; then it floated softly to the ground. Kurt tried to swipe it away, furiously digging his foot into the floor.

"No.. No, nothing like that," Kurt managed to stutter out, shocked that his father would think that, and scared of the venom in his voice. "H-he's hurt. He, he c-called me. I could on-only hear… screams." Thinking of it, willingly, brought silent sobs to his chest. They broke his sentences in awkward places as he tried to stifle them.

He felt a strong arm around his shoulder. It gently rubbed his arm. Kurt managed to compose himself, relying on deep breaths.

"Kurt, I can't let you do this. I can't let you go out there. It's late, you're worked up. You can't focus. I don't want you getting into an accident. I don't want you hurt because of this."

"I can't leave him. No one knows where he is. He could…"

Seeing the pain, the desperation on his son's face, Burt Hummel cut him off. "This boy means a lot to you. I know that," He paused. "Get in the car. And where is he?"

* * *

><p>That was probably the most awkward car ride of Kurt's life. After telling his dad Blaine's general whereabouts, and sure fire directions courtesy of Google Maps, he was lost. He stared at the glove box, hand rubbing his forehead. The phone call replayed through his mind again and again. <em>Courage, <em>he thought. _Courage. _He repeated it over in his head; it had become a mantra long ago. It repeated through his brain, chasing away the screams. It repeated until he wasn't sure if he was hoping for personal courage or courage for Blaine. But it helped, all the same.

* * *

><p>The headlights of the truck shone down a dark alley. Unlike the three before it, this one had a dark lump lying in the middle. Blaine. It could only be him, or a homeless man.<p>

Kurt was already out of the car and running to the body. He knelt down, trying to get a better look. At this point, he didn't care that his jeans were new, and it'd be near impossible to get the stains out.

"Blaine," he whispered. "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine."

It was Blaine, though a sad caricature of him. He was passed out, skin a ghostly purple and lips even deeper so. Blood stained his jacket at odd intervals, but so did sickly green pus. His eye was bruised, and his lip was cut. A faint line ran from behind his left ear and traveled below his jaw line, stopping at his windpipe. It gently oozed blood and bodily fluids. Though it was thin and shallow enough that it wouldn't kill him, Kurt still worried. His eyes continued to examine Blaine; they stopped when they reached his arm.

The right sleeve of his jacket was completely torn off, shredded to pieces. There were three parallel scratches down his bicep, and a corresponding one on the inside of his arm. They matched the line on his neck. Blaine's forearm was even worse. In the exact center was a deep puncture wound. It wasn't bleeding, but the edges were turning a deep purple-green, so dark it was almost black. The dark color followed trails outward, radiating around the hole. As it got further from the wound, they got lighter until they turned nearly yellow at his wrist and elbow. The trails split at random intervals, forming an intricate web of mottled skin. Kurt thought he saw shapes in it. Wait… was it… moving? Blinking, he realized no, it was not moving. It must have been a trick in the light.

_Oh, Blaine. What have you gotten yourself into? _

Kurt closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His boyfriend was relatively safe, if not sound. He opened them, only to notice a drop of wetness on Blaine's face. Then another, and another. He leaned in to kiss his own tears away. As his chest came over Blaine's he felt it rise up to meet his own. He pressed down gently, trying to avoid any bruises there may be, and felt Blaine's heart. It was weaker and slower than he'd like, but it was there. He was alive.

* * *

><p>Something stirred behind Blaine's eyelids. Kurt sighed in relief and remained huddled over Blaine until he heard sirens.<p>

They peeked from behind alley corners, congregating to see the birth of their brethren.

Suddenly, they all were frozen. Someone came by, someone stopped, someone stayed.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

They hissed at each other, wondering about the newcomer. He leaned in, lips barely touching the body's face.

Then it breathed.

They slunk away, whispering. They slunk away to warn their king.

An angel was among them.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ugh, I feel like hell."

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, surprised. "You're parents just left. They said you were still sleeping."

He made his way to the bedside, moving the plastic chair closer, avoiding the machines that hummed, whirred, and dripped a saline solution into Blaine's arm.

"Yeah," Blaine attempted to shrug, "Pretended I was asleep- wait, did you say parents? As in plural of parent? As in two?"

"Yes," Kurt nodded, surprised. "Why?"

"My dad wasn't supposed to be back for another month. Shit," he mumbled the last part to himself.

"And that's bad because?" Kurt was confused; he didn't think Blaine had a bad relationship with his parents.

"Ne-never mind. Anyway, how are you feeling?" Blaine asked, deftly changing the subject.

"Shouldn't I ask you that? I'm not the one in the hospital bed."

They both shared a nervous laugh, neither truly wanting to acknowledge the reality of the situation. They'd felt so untouchable, so free. They lived in a fantasy land, but reality came crashing down around their ears, and here Blaine was in a hospital.

"Well, my arm's killing me."

The limb in question was wrapped in bandages, from wrist to shoulder and placed neatly in a sling. It rested on Blaine's chest, moving up and down slightly with each breath. His skin was back to a natural color, if slightly paler than normal. The cut on his neck was too shallow for stitches; instead a small army of butterfly bandages held the edges closed. He almost looked like Frankenstein's monster, and at the realization Kurt tried to suppress a laugh. The dark purple bruises that had covered his eye and cheek had faded. Now they were a pale yellow, dotted intermittently with green splotches.

"But other than that, I'm fine."

"You were beaten in an alley and had your arm hole-punched. You're telling me you feel just _fine_?" Kurt glared at him, raising a perfectly sculptured eyebrow in suspicion.

Blaine slapped him weakly with his left hand. "You're just looking for an excuse to baby me."

"Do I have to repeat this? What part of attack, alley, Blaine, and injured arm do you not understand?"

"The bit where my boyfriend turned into my mother. Kurt, I'm breathing. I'm going to be discharged later. Everything's fine."

"I'm supposed to be consoling you, aren't I?" Kurt laughed nervously again, then grabbed Blaine's free hand. "Could you turn this a little?" The clear tube of the IV reminded him too much of the hole in Blaine's other arm, the one turned dark with the awful bruises around it. Blaine obliged, and Kurt settled back in the chair slightly. "It's hard, Blaine. It's hard when the best thing that's happened to you calls you in the middle of the fucking night, screaming. And all you hear is screams- just screams. And you're the only one who knows where they are and just… just listen when I tell you not to sneak out, okay?" Kurt didn't notice his voice had risen and tears had come behind his eyes again. He blinked them back, releasing his overly tight hold on Blaine's hand. "Please?" he pleaded.

Blaine rubbed Kurt's hand with his thumb, the pad brushing over his knuckles, trying to infuse him with comfort through touch. "Shhh," he whispered. "Everything's alright now. I won't sneak out again. I promise."

He smiled faintly, and Kurt's lips twitched up slightly in response. They squeezed hands, and then Kurt bent over and brushed his lips against Blaine's. It was a light kiss, tender and sweet; Kurt wanted to avoid the bruises and cut lip. He let their noses touch, and they stayed for a moment, resting in each other's presence. Blaine smelled of antiseptic, but under that was a faint scent of cologne and something darker. Kurt pulled away, still smiling.

"I love you," Blaine murmured, so quiet it was almost inaudible. "I'm so sorry."

"Mr. Hummel? I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

A nurse had appeared, flanked by Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. Kurt looked at Blaine, who had visibly deflated. The light feeling in the room had dimmed; his smile was gone.

"It's okay. I'll go get some coffee or something downstairs."

Kurt left and made his way to the cafeteria, hoping there was Starbucks or that the coffee served there was at least palatable.

* * *

><p>"We're going to have to keep Blaine here overnight," the nurse said. "There's something strange we found in his blood samples; we just want to make sure that it's not going to hurt him."<p>

Under his breath, Mr. Anderson mumbled something. Something that sounded like, "His gayness, too bad it probably won't."

When his wife nudged him, he simply smiled and said, "Never mind."

* * *

><p>Was it some sort of rule that hospitals didn't have good food? Kurt grimaced past another sip of the coffee they had given him, if it could even be referred to as coffee. It tasted sort of like cardboard and bitterness. He made another face, and made his way up to Blaine's room again.<p>

Mrs. Anderson gave him a curt nod, "You can go in again, if you want. I think he's sleeping, though."

Kurt smiled back at her, "Thanks, Mrs. Anderson. I'll just stay a little longer."

"It's nice seeing you with him," she said. The emotion in her voice surprised him. She almost sounded grateful. "He's never smiled so much. Not after his father…"

"Pardon?"

"Oh never mind, it'll just worry you."

Never mind seemed to be the phrase of choice with the Andersons. Couldn't they just tell a boy something?

"I'll trust you on that, ma'am." Kurt walked inside, and sat down on the plastic chair. The machines buzzed around him. It was a different sort of waiting then when his father was in the hospital. It was more peaceful. He wasn't sitting on the edge of his seat hoping, almost praying, for him to wake up. Kurt knew Blaine was just napping; he'd be out of the hospital in a day. They'd go back to laughing and watching movies and breaking out into song at the most inopportune times. They'd walk, hold hands, kiss.

He started humming, one of those times when a song dances into your head and you can't help singing it. It was just the instrumental, a calming acoustic guitar reverberated around, and he hummed along. For the life of him, Kurt could not remember the words. The tune was stuck in his head, that was for sure, but what was the song?

Out of nowhere it hit him, and he started singing softly to Blaine.

_Honey you are a rock__  
><em>_Upon which I stand__  
><em>_And I come here to talk__  
><em>_I hope you understand_

_That green eyes, yeah the spotlight, shines upon you__  
><em>_And how could, anybody, deny you_

_I came here with a load__  
><em>_And it feels so much lighter, now I've met you__  
><em>_And honey you should know, that I could never go on without you_

_Green eyes_  
><em><br>_

He swayed gently, side to side, always with perfect posture. Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand again, twisting his arm so he wouldn't have to see the IV. He squeezed gently and almost felt Blaine squeeze back in his sleep. The tears came again, gently stinging his eyes. It was something he couldn't deny; Blaine meant the world to him.

_Honey you are the sea__  
><em>_Upon which I float__  
><em>_And I came here to talk__  
><em>_I think you should know_

_That green eyes, you're the one that I wanted to find__  
><em>_And anyone who, tried to deny you must be out of their mind_

_Cause I came here with a load__  
><em>_And it feels so much lighter, since I met you__  
><em>_Honey you should know, that I could never go on without you_

Kurt didn't notice anyone else in the room. He didn't notice Blaine's eyes twitching behind closed lids. He didn't notice that Blaine was awake, hearing every word he sang. He didn't notice Blaine's smile. He didn't notice Mr. Anderson behind him, looking at his back with vehemence. He closed his eyes and sang, his love ringing through every word.

_Green eyes__  
><em>_Green eyes_

_Ohohohohooooo__  
><em>_Ohohohohooooo_

_Ohohohohooooo__  
><em>_Ohohohohooooo_

_Honey you are a rock__  
><em>_Upon which I stand_

**A/N: Okay, I know Blaine's eyes are on the hazel side of brown, but the song still works, right? I promise that some action bits will come shortly. **

**Thanks to everyone who's alerted/favorite/reviewed. You make my heart smile… and my lips too. **

**Also: my headcanon for Blaine and his relationship with his father may be slightly off canon (or at least the four lines we got in Sexy) but I need it this way for the story. I'm going up to Prom Queen; any further information that may be given to us in regards to character after wards may not be in the story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Kurt, Blaine, or "Green Eyes" by Coldplay**


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